A disturbing, absurd poem that makes about as much sense as a crazy person's fantasy...wait a minute. Does that mean...?
I'm skipping among the gravestones, feeling mighty fine
As a parade of marching zombies, shuffle in a line
This place is strange and morbid
but where else is there to go?
Judging by what I've already seen
I probably don't want to know.
Skittering, jittering insects
crawl across the ground.
A man is frozen, his mouth wide open
but no one hears a sound
I see the specters as they soar, high above this grim abode
I see the little girl go by, holding her pet toad.
Dreaming, dreaming...I must be dreaming
The grass is on fire and people are screaming
Trees are dancing, and the undead are prancing
Its a regular party of freaks.
There's a boy with leather hands
And his ears and nose are too
His first hands melted away
When the blaze scorched them, is this true?
So they replaced them with some cow-hide
'Cause he didn't know what to do
And now he walks among the freaks
In this place of pure taboo.
His sister is a girl named Lana
Who's eyes are filled with worms
One look from this human iguana
Would make even a strong man squirm
She enjoys the taste of crunchy flies
And anything at all
Take her to a party, and you might have a ball!
The Ringmaster of the Circus
Has baleful yellow eyes
He waves a wand to keep us here
With dark hypnotic lies
If we try to misbehave
Or leave during the show
Ooh, the terrors he will visit
You don't want to know.
His Freakshow is exquisite
Full of hideous, inhuman things
Like the dog with the leaking eyeball
And the giant rat that sings.
Inanimate objects talk to us
Explaining this and that
About the monsters in this collection,
About the cat in the razored hat.
Skipping among the Marshlands, feeling more than a little scared,
For a creature in a loose black Death robe
Smiled wide and stared
As I passed the bubbling swamp gas
Then my ankle something snared
Only a fool would stand around
To see how well I fared.
This celebration of horrid freaks
Is a twisted sight to see
As the moments fly by
I need to cry
And somehow try to flee
This isn't a dream, its a nightmare
but how do I wake up?
This creature has my ankle
And I think I might throw up
Is there a gag reflex in dreams?
Or is this truly real?
Will anyone really hear me scream
Is this too much to feel?
Sensation is too vivid
Sights are way to clear
Some of the beasts just seem to feast
On my sorrow and my fear.
If there is a way out it must be beyond
This swampy, gassy place
Or could it be my sanity has vanished without a trace?